


What Makes a Monster

by Lissamel



Category: Monster High
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissamel/pseuds/Lissamel
Summary: When everyone else is so bizarre, looking positively normal is probably the strangest thing of all.





	What Makes a Monster

Most monsters from Monster High were very easy to identify by appearance.

Frankie was green and had stitching. Clawdeen was covered in fur and had wolf ears. Venus was green and had vines; Twyla was periwinkle and half-shadowy; Gooliope was very tall and dripping pink slime. Easy visual indicators. One could tell what monster they were at a passing glance.

If the visual indicators weren’t a quick tip-off, there were usually other things to make the monster they were clear. Maybe in the dark you could mistake Operetta for a mere normie, but those ideas would be proven wrong the second you heard her sing. Maybe in certain fashion subsections Toralei wouldn’t look so strange, but the teeth were harder to justify, not to mention her more catty tendencies. Vandala could just be an elaborate cosplay until she went through a wall; Billy was probably just cold until he up and vanished; and Cleo was probably the most normal-looking of them all but even she had her bandages and her Egyptian statue-like (if not  _ actually _ animate Egyptian statue) servants. 

Jackson had nothing particularly noteworthy about him.

He was pale, with hair that was black and yellow (because of dye) and a tattoo on his back and a piercing in his eyebrow (because of  _ someone else _ ). He enjoyed Lush cosmetics (even if  _ someone else _ didn’t), and science (chemical compositions were relaxing), and working with oil pastels (Porter would sometimes show him interesting techniques), and playing the Sims (he’d appreciate it if  _ someone else _ didn’t keep messing with his save files). Nothing made Jackson particularly  _ interesting _ when put alongside the rest of the student body, unless you counted him being a normie as  _ interesting. _ Normally, Jackson’s lack of interesting things would be absolutely fine by him -- less of a fuss, really -- but here, it made him stick out almost  _ painfully. _

Back at his old school, he blended in just fine. The most he stuck out is when people picked on him for his last name, either because it was old-fashioned and  _ weird _ , or because everyone presumed he’d be  _ super helpful _ for book reports on a certain Robert Louis Stevenson story, or the theater kids  _ really _ wanted to hear him sing some selections of a certain musical based on aforementioned story. Most of those things could be solved by just fibbing about his last name, though it didn’t stop  _ all _ the attention, mostly because he was too meek to talk over teachers doing roll call. Of course, then his life started getting more  _ interesting _ , and his mom thought it would be for the best that he transfer into Monster High. It took a while for him to be totally comfortable with the change. Not just the... _ Odder _ student body, no, but with no longer impulsively lying about his surname. In fact -- after he learned about  _ someone else _ he happened to be sharing bodies with -- sharing his surname and demonstrating his condition became almost  _ mandatory _ to fit in.

He sort of hated being relegated to the sidelines while  _ someone else _ became the talk of the town, all because of some music played at a four-four time signature at ninety decibels or more. But he’d never say anything like that. That’d just hurt  _ someone else’s _ feelings, and he was raised to be a thoughtful person. 

He was also slightly amazed he didn’t have issues with hearing loss.

Jackson pulled into himself slightly as he pushed through the crowds in the hallway to get to his locker. He twirled the combination lock and unlocked the locker door. He squinted at himself in the little mirror he put on the inside of the door, then took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, and squinted at himself again. He frowned hard and began to pat his hair down. He hadn’t realized it was such a mess -- then again,  _ someone else _ had almost made him late, turning off his alarm like that. Hmph. Trying to straighten himself out a bit more before school properly began, Jackson tried not to eavesdrop on the conversations between other students, but that was nearly impossible with how loud everyone was chatting. Parties at Transylvanian manors, or family gatherings in the great scarrier (barrier?) reef, or the cheer of more stories to tell when they returned to families in foreign countries. The same kind of chatter Jackson was used to in the hallways, frankly. Everyone was so close with their families -- with their heritage. 

That’s what made a monster, Jackson thought. Visual indicators and familial closeness. He had neither.

Okay, that was a lie. He was close with his mother. But he wasn’t close with his family in the way other monsters were, mainly because the  _ famous _ one was very much dead and couldn’t be contacted by any of the other ghosts haunting Monster High. He never really particularly got close emotionally with his fire elemental of a father, either, mostly because they lacked any sort of common ground to relate on. Not a bad relationship, no, not by any means. But a sort of awkward one. 

_ Someone else _ had both of those things.  _ Someone else  _ had blue skin and hair literally ablaze.  _ Someone else _ was very close to his fire elemental of a father, not to mention mom’s other side.  _ Someone else _ was a monster. Not to mention  _ someone else _ liked being a general nuisance just enough that Jackson was positive however-many-greats-back grandfather Edward would have taken a shine to him. Jackson couldn’t even  _ begin _ to figure out what however-many-greats-back grandfather Henry would think of him. Would he be seen as some sort of family disappointment? He hoped not. He’d worked too hard to keep both his and  _ someone else’s _ grades up to be seen as a family disappointment.

Jackson’s recently re-straightened bowtie became askew again as he gave a slight gasp and hopped out of the way of a pair of steam-powered rocket boots and the robot inside them. Did she  _ have _ to rush down the halls like that? Jackson was shocked she had enough finesse not to run into literally everybody in the hallway. He ran a finger over the spines of binders and textbooks in his locker, pulling out his materials for clawculus (calculus? These puns were hard to get a handle on sometimes) and shutting his locker. He re-re-straightened his bow tie. Geesh, who knew the force of Robecca’s passing would be enough to…

…

Jackson had a thought.

He held his materials close to his chest as he slipped down the hallway, dodging Jinafire’s tail and pausing before Finnegan’s wheelchair ran over his feet. He let out a breath -- the halls could be so  _ hectic _ \-- and quickly scurried up beside the robot’s locker. “H-hi, Robecca.”

It took a second for her to notice he was even there, but soon she turned her head, putting on a smile. “Hello, Jackson! Did you lose something at the roller maze again?”

Jackson looked off, some embarrassed blush coming on his cheeks. “No,” He insisted. Sheesh,  _ someone else _ loses his iCoffin in the roller maze arena  _ one time _ and nobody can let it go. “I actually...Wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on,” She said, turning her head away so she could fetch some things from her locker.

He paused, swallowing, glancing away. “Did you…” He began, then shook his head, changing questions. “You were...Around...In the Victorian era, right?”

“So I’m told,” She flashed him a sort of soft, silly smirk as she pulled out her materials. “For me it still feels like only weeks ago!”

That made him awkwardly laugh, but he cleared his throat. “So…” Breathe in, “Did you...Did you  _ know _ …” A pause. “...Did you ever meet Doctor Henry Jekyll?”

There was a silence that seemed to last for an eternity between them. Beneath the rabble of other students, Jackson could practically hear Robecca’s cogs and gears grinding together. Jackson stepped back, almost ready to apologize for asking and rush off, before Robecca stopped him by saying, “I’ve heard the name.”

Jackson straightened up, eyes widening. “R-really?”

“I believe he attended one of the showcases my father initially brought me to,” She said, tapping her chin as though the ‘tink’ of metal-on-metal helped her memory any. “He was a man of the sciences, very interested in any progressions therein. Father and he had that in common. You must understand, though, he always had a sense of...Apprehension regarding involvement in monsterous affairs…” Jackson nodded with a sort of half-laugh. “I saw more of mister Edward Hyde when he was more active --  _ he _ involved himself in monster affairs as much as he could.” Not surprising, Jackson thought. “He was in fact  _ very _ vocally supportive for the inclusion of robots in monster varieties, though I could never tell if it were out of some goodness of heart or if he just wanted to feel included too…”

“Wait,” Jackson interrupted. Robecca paused, looking at him and quizzically tilting her head. “That was a...Point of contention? Whether or not robots were monsters?”

Another pause. Robecca’s face fell a bit as her head turned away and she closed her locker. Jackson almost apologized again and fled before she let out a breath. “Yes,” She said, “For a while. Back when I was new, it was a rather debated topic, and it made it...Difficult for me to feel like I truly fit in among other monsters.” There was a beat. Then Robecca perked up a bit, smiling, beginning to walk -- or maybe skate on jets of air, Jackson couldn’t entirely tell -- down the hallway. Jackson scurried up beside her. “But after being rebuilt in this era, it seemed such a debate had become, well, a thing of the past. Robots are now considered as monster as any other. And in this school, I feel like…” The cogwheels in her eyes gave a turn, the light catching on them and making it look like her eyes were shining. “Like I truly do belong.”

He hadn’t known all that about her. Then again, he hadn’t done much talking to Robecca. Fast-paced stunts and thrill-seeking adventures weren’t really his thing. Still, the story made him smile a bit. “I...Know the feeling,” He admitted, letting out a soft half-laugh before the bell rang. Jackson straightened up in surprise, as did Robecca, before she engaged the rockets on her boots and began skating off all the faster. “Wait!” He called, running to try and keep up with her. “Can -- can we pick up th-this chat during lunch?”

“Sounds riveting!” She said over her shoulder as she zoomed down the hallway.

Jackson smiled, his own pace slowing as he watched her go. Then, realizing he was headed in the complete wrong direction, he turned around and began making his way to calculus. 

It was kind of nice to have someone at Monster High to relate to --  _ actually _ relate to, on something personal, not merely on interests and that person’s desire to see  _ someone else _ . 

Maybe he’d been wrong about what makes a monster. It wasn’t appearance or closeness to their family. What makes a monster was...Who you were, and who you associated with, and the knowledge that you really belong among them.

Despite all the bullying and the side-eyes and the snide remarks, Jackson had to admit, he did feel like he belonged among the other monsters.

Maybe  _ someone else _ would appreciate…

…

Maybe  _ Holt  _ would appreciate a little more self-confidence from his other half.

**Author's Note:**

> What is this, middle school?
> 
> Between working on a different fic for a different fandom, I've been watching a bunch of those Monster High movies with my friends ('13 Wishes' is probably the best one I've seen thus far, though 'Freaky Fusion' and 'Haunted' were also stand-outs for me), and I was reminded I used to have a...Silly, huge, dorky crush on Jackson Jekyll. Obviously I matured since then, but what can I say, I still love this dweeb. So, to kind of shift my mind away from my usual fare, I impulse-wrote the stuff you see here. Ain't that just the way sometimes?
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
